Christmas Miracle
by pirateoftherings
Summary: Tis the season for miracles...and the Turner family could use a miracle or two right now.


**A/N**: Okay, so last night (t'was the night before Christmas...) I was savagely attacked by a vicious plot rottweiler. Not a bunny. A rottweiler. See, bunnies are these cute, fluffy little things that simply prance around in your brain and wait to be used. Rottweilers, in contrast, come out of nowhere and sink in their teeth, refusing to be ignored. Then, you finally acknowledge them and try to actually write them out, and they refuse to cooperate. They snarl and bite and keep you up til ridiculous times, and you can't make them behave, yet you can't just leave them alone. This one was a plot rottweiler. I think I finally beat it into submission for a bit, but it may still be a tad rough (I write strange things at 4:00 in the morning). Plus, I wanted to actually have it up in time for Christmas, so I didn't spend quite as much time revising as usual. Tell me what you think! Believe it or not, I actually _want_ to know if people like my stories. Praise (if there is any) will be loved and cherished forever. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows and make hot chocolate, as it is quite cold here. Merry Christmas to all!

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, still not mine. But I'm gonna play with them anyway. After all, 'tis the season. Merry Christmas, Disney!

* * *

Christmas Miracle

"Will, darling, come away from the window before you catch cold."

Ten-year-old William Turner sighed and cast one last longing glance out into the falling snow before nodding and closing the shutters. "I just hoped that maybe he'd come this year," he whispered despondently.

His mother looked up from clearing the table, her expression and tone carefully guarded. "Darling, I want your father to come home every bit as much as you do, but we've not heard from him in almost two years-"

"No!" Will interrupted, more fiercely than he'd intended. "He promised me, Mum. He promised!"

Biting her lower lip, his mother turned away briefly and took a deep breath. "It's Christmas Eve, Will," she finally said, smiling shakily. "Now is the time for happier thoughts."

"Yes, Mum," Will muttered.

There hadn't been that much celebration this year, despite Kate's many efforts to make it a festive holiday. They couldn't afford a lavish feast like most families, and presents were out of the question. In fact, she'd only just managed to find enough for supper that evening, though she had no intention of telling Will that. Things were bad, and steadily getting worse. There was no way that the meager stores in their pantry would last the entire winter, yet they had no way of making more money at the moment. Letters and money from Bill had come less and less frequently, until at last they just stopped coming altogether. She feared he was dead; again, however, she would never dream of voicing her fears to Will. She hated to lead the boy on and give him false hope, but at the same time, he already had so little to cling to. If the belief that his father was coming back kept Will going, then she was not about to strip him of that belief. 

Will continued to sit silently, fiddling with one of the buttons on his worn-out vest. "Mother?" he said abruptly. "Are we poor?"

Kate looked up in surprise, caught off guard by the blunt question. "What makes you ask that, Will?"

The boy shrugged, kicking his feet slightly as he sat on the bench. "Some of the other boys down at the docks said we were," he replied casually.

"Will, I've told you before to stay away from those ruffians," she admonished gently. "They're nothing but troublemakers."

"Yes, Mum," Will muttered. "…But are we?"

His mother sighed and wiped her hands on her apron before sitting down next to him on the bench. "Money is a bit tight right now," she admitted tiredly.

"Is that why we don't have much food?"

"Yes, Will."

"I thought so…Papa hasn't sent much money lately, has he?"

"No, love, he hasn't."

"…Are we going to be alright?"

Kate sighed again and turned her son's face toward her. "As long as we have each other, Will, we'll be alright," she said, kissing him on the forehead and gently smoothing his hair. "We'll get through this, love. We just have to have faith." Giving him what she hoped was a brave smile, she put an arm around him and rested her chin on his head.

Neither was certain how long they had been sitting there in their silent embrace when a knock came on the door. It was tentative at first, then grew bolder the second time.

"Who on earth…?" His mother hurried over and unlatched the door, opening it to reveal an elderly man heavily wrapped in winter clothes.

"Evenin', ma'am," he said, lifting his red cap in a slight salute. "This the Turner residence?"

"It is. Is there something I can do for you, sir…?"

"Oh, no ma'am. I've jus' got a delivery 'ere for one 'Katherine Turner.' Shall I bring it inside?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she said hastily, moving out of the doorway. "Does it say what it is?"

"No ma'am, it does not." The man disappeared for a moment, then showed back up with a large wooden crate. "Jus' says 'To Mrs. Katherine Turner. Handle with care.'"

"Thank you," Kate murmured as the crate was pushed into the house.

The elderly man lifted his cap again as he was leaving and gave a short bow. "I best be off, then. A Merry Christmas to the both of ye."

"And to you as well," she whispered, closing the door slowly as she stared after the strange old man.

"Mama, what is it?" Will asked eagerly, jumping up to go get a closer look at the crate.

"I haven't the faintest idea. Be a good lad and help me pry this open?"

After several minutes of their combined efforts, they finally managed to free the lid of the crate. What was inside left the both of them speechless.

"Will, help me get all this out."

They hurriedly worked together to empty the crate's contents and arrange them on the table. There were dried goods, spices, a few loaves of bread, several wheels of cheese, and even a few exotic-looking fruits that had just started to get truly ripe- every sort of foods imaginable. There was more than enough to get them through the harsh winter months.

The most curious thing, however, was the sealed letter she found at the bottom of the crate with her name on it. She hurriedly opened it and started to read. _My Dearest Katherine…  
_

Will stood and watched silently as his mother read the letter. Judging by the tears trickling down her face, he would not be allowed to read it as well. He continued to wait patiently until she finally set the letter down and wiped her eyes.

"Will, there's something in there for you, too," she said quietly.

Will strode back over to the crate and anxiously peeked inside. Sitting on the bottom of the crate was a small envelope with his name scrawled on it in a familiar handwriting. Grabbing it out, he quickly broke the seal and opened it. Out onto his waiting palm slid the package's sole content:

A single gold medallion.


End file.
